


There's a New Gun in Town

by baja_king



Category: Tremors - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 21:56:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16333946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baja_king/pseuds/baja_king
Summary: A not-so-sleepy town in the middle of the desert has unwanted guests and Burt wants rid of them.  The survivalist secretly hopes that El Blanco makes lunch with them, but Mixmaster has other ideas.





	There's a New Gun in Town

As Jodi rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she carefully made her way to the coffee pot.  She had responsibilities as the sole proprietor of the market.  Some of the Perfection citizenry counted on her to help start their day.  Burt and Tyler would arrive soon looking for breakfast.  While Nancy was capable of preparing her own, she preferred the company.  However, Rosalita and Harlowe would remain on the ranch taking care of the cattle.

It was not her dream business.  Jodi wanted more.  Her family founded the market during the heyday of the silver mining operations in the Nineteenth Century.  The market had seen good times as well as lean.  She often thought of giving it up and moving back to San Francisco, but always reconsidered in favor of the family’s struggles.

Still, Jodi managed to make a profit.  She had a key operation in a unique tourist attraction spot.  As much as she despised El Blanco, that endangered beast guaranteed tourism along with the associated sales.  The beast relied on the Perfection citizenry to protect it from human predators.  It was a strange symbiosis.

Jodi made the coffee and wondered what requisitions Burt might have.  At least now, he was making money with his survival school and lectures.  The locals all chipped in to a community fund to finance the resources required to handle emergencies.  With the incursion of Mixmaster, emergencies seemed constant.

As a vehicle pulled into the parking area, Jodi silently swore.  She ignored the initial knocks at the door.  However, the knocks increased and grew to raucous poundings.  Jodi snapped, “Come back in half an hour!”

“Aw, come on,” pleaded Twitchell.  It was too early for the friendly representative with the Department of the Interior.  He continued, “It’s important.”

Jodi poured a cup of coffee and took a swig.  She went to the door and unlocked it.  Twitchell entered accompanied by two strangers.  She knew it meant trouble.  There was a man and a woman, both dressed in army desert fatigues and unashamedly carrying side arms from tactical belts.

Twitchell said, “Whoa, did you just wake up?”  He strolled into the market, followed by the strangers who appeared extremely alert.

“Can it,” Jodi snapped.  “It’s too early for normal people and it’s WAY too early for bureaucrats.  What do you want?”

Twitchell said, “Nothing much.  Is breakfast ready?”

Jodi said, “You’ve got to be kidding.  Do you know what time it is?”

“Zero five thirty-seven,” said the strange woman.

“Hurrah,” Jodi grumbled.  Softening her tone she continued, “Have a seat at the counter.”

“We’ll take this table,” said the strange man.

Jodi grumbled, “Whatever.”

The strange woman quietly said, “I told you we were too early for the civilians.”

As Jodi handed out menus, Nancy entered and said, “I thought I saw your lights on.  Good God, Twitchell – what are you doing here so early?”

Twitchell laughed, “Government business.  Better radio Gummer.”

Jodi sarcastically commented, “He brought G.I. Joe and G.I. Jane here.”

Nancy said, “Alright, let’s be sensible.  Jodi, go ahead and get dressed.  I’ll take care of our guests.  Oh, and Larry’s still asleep.”

“Who can sleep?”  The excited teen triumphantly entered the market.  He looked at Twitchell with the strangers and said, “Wow!  Talk about the cavalry!  What gives?”

The strange woman said, “We’re Airborne, not cavalry, and we’re here to save your asses from some swamp creature resurrected from the Devonian Age courtesy of Mixmaster.”

Larry cried, “Alright!  Sign me up!”  The two strangers laughed.  Larry smiled, “I know all about fighting strange beasts.”

“Go back to your Jedi training young Padawan,” teased the strange woman.

Larry turned to Nancy and said, “I think she likes me.”

Nancy asked, “Twitchell, are you going to introduce us to your friends?”

Twitchell replied, “I’ll wait until Gummer gets here.”

Nancy shrugged, “Okay.  I didn’t realize the government had a file on Larry.”

Twitchell said, “File?  What file?  We’re the United States Government!  We don’t spy on our own citizenry.”

The strange man said, “She’s supposed to be the hippie?  Sounds more like a certain suspicious survivalist.”

Nancy frowned before heading to the grill.  Whoever were the strangers, she knew Burt would have a cow.  Someone briefed the pair on the townspeople.  Twitchell probably elaborated some of the finer nuances such as Larry’s love of science fiction.  What did the bureaucrat tell them about Burt?

It did not take long for Burt and Tyler to arrive for breakfast.  Jodi was finally dressed, Twitchell and his guests were eating breakfast, Nancy sat at the counter drinking coffee, and Larry flitted around the market rearranging the products.

Burt said, “Well I’ll be damned.”  He took a seat at a table and eyed the strangers.

Tyler joined Burt at the table and said, “Burt, it’s not polite to stare.”

The strange woman said, “That’s okay.  I’ve read his file.  I’d be more concerned if he didn’t stare.”  Her companion snickered while Twitchell nervously laughed.

The strange man said, “Mister Twitchell, it’s time.”

While Twitchell had some authority in the Department of the Interior, his assignment to oversee Perfection was not initially a dream job.  The idea of looking after a prehistoric beast posed little interest to him.  As a GS-13, he was better suited for other tasks, but he accepted the assignment despite the lack of staff.  When issues arose with Mixmaster, he realized he was a doormat for higher-level agents and no one gave a damn what he had to say.  Today, he had a rare opportunity to fan his peacock feathers.

Twitchell straightened his tie and said, “The Department of the Interior has determined that having a full-time on-site representative in Perfection is extremely prudent.  With certain budget considerations, this has not been seriously considered until we were afforded a rare and unique opportunity.”

Burt said, “Cut the bureaucratic bull talk.”

Twitchell said, “Colonel Maureen Callahan is getting ready to retire after thirty years of military service and has graciously accepted a position as the new Perfection Park Ranger.”

The room broke out in laughter.  Burt finally said, “Oh, now that’s rich.  Just how stupid do you think I am?  A full bird colonel is the equivalent of a GS-15.  You’re only a 13.”

Twitchell said, “That’s true.  I’ll be working more out of Vegas.  The colonel is here today doing a little recon with her associate Colonel John Collins.  Melvin should be along any time.  Yup, they’re going to set up house and keep a close eye on things.”

Burt stood and walked toward the trio.  He carefully eyed the two military officers and said, “Eighty Second Airborne with combat patches.  You’re Colonel Patriot.”

“I’ve been called that,” said Maureen.  “Have you read my file?”

Burt laughed almost menacingly, “Oh, I would love to read your file.”

Maureen said, “We’re going to hate each other.  I do not intend to try to make friends with you.  Get one thing straight – when the shit hits the fan, I expect you to lock and load.  We need to work together.”

Burt said, “This is our home.  You’re the outsider.”

Twitchell said, “I could just kick all of you out of this valley and be done with it.”

John said, “Let’s not resort to juvenile threats.”

Twitchell pulled out his portable fan and said, “Damn, it’s getting hot.”

Maureen said, “Don’t worry, Mister Gummer.  I’ll make sure that Yogi doesn’t steal the pick-a-nick baskets.  You will despise my presence.  You will accuse me of protecting our country’s reputation in how I deal with the Mixmaster situation.  I will not deny that.  We can both agree that Mixmaster must be eradicated.”

Burt declared, “We can handle it.”

John said, “The situation needs proper supervision.  Espouse all the conspiracy theories you want, for that is your right and I will defend that right even though I don’t agree with what you have to say.”

Tyler said, “Take it easy, Burt.  We all know how to write our names in the snow.”  Burt scoffed and returned to his table.

The tension briefly broke as Melvin entered the market sporting his super excited salesman demeanor.  He cried, “Good morning!  Whoa, whose funeral did I just miss?  Ah, Mister Twitchell!  These must be my buyers.”

Burt had little interest in Melvin or his business dealings.  However, he eavesdropped on the conversation.  The notion of government agents moving inside his beloved valley upset the survivalist.  From what he could ascertain, the two strangers were both retiring.  The woman had already transferred command of her unit and was currently using up accumulated leave.  The man was not due to retire for another two months, but once out-processed he would join the woman.

The woman troubled Burt.  He knew what he read in the conventional newspapers about her controversial exploits with the 82nd Airborne.  She was the last product of a failed effort to integrate successfully women into traditionally combat units.  The news found it convenient to report on rescue missions she led in an effort to prove women could function successfully in combat.

Burt knew what he read in the so-called unconventional resources.  He doubted the woman was a modern day Mata Hari but stories abounded of assassinations, search-and-destroy missions against extremists, illegal incursions into non-combatant nations, and working in concert with the CIA on covert operations.  Why was she in his valley?  The government needed a loyal agent to cover up Proudfoot.

After Melvin and his group exited the market, Burt casually strolled to the doorway and watched.  The group loaded into Melvin’s SUV and took off along the road.  Burt figured the little turd was going to show off prime parcels that he was unable to sell because of the Endangered Species Act of 1973.  He considered following the group but decided against it.

In its infinite wisdom, the government declared graboids an endangered species and Perfection Valley a vital ecosystem upon which graboids depends.  El Blanco could not escape the habitat because of the natural geologic boundaries emplaced by nature.  As a result, the government ordered restrictions on numerous activities including building new housing developments.

The notion of predation seemed laughable.  El Blanco was a keystone predator.  Burt could kill the beast at any time.  The government prevented him from doing so.  To remain in the valley, Burt reluctantly accepted a cessation of hostilities between himself and the beast.  Occasionally, others entered the valley hoping to kill the beast. 

It was a minor miracle that the government did not implement eminent domain but Twitchell threatened it as a way to demonstrate his authority.  If El Blanco died, Melvin’s dream of building Melville still could not come to fruition.  The government needed the beast to cover up the Mixmaster disaster.

Nancy came up from behind and said, “Try not to worry too much.”

Burt said, “I don’t like it one bit.”

Nancy asked, “Would you rather have Twitchell around all the time?”

Burt said, “As a matter of fact, yes.  He can be a pain in the ass but at least I can handle him.  These two are a different story.”

Nancy said, “It sounds like she’s remaining on the payroll.”

Burt said, “And he’s just coming along for the desert air?  No, he’s riding shotgun.  Something’s coming and I don’t like it.  They’re up to something.”

Nancy said, “Life is more or less a lie, but then again, that’s exactly the way we want it to be – Bob Dylan.”

Burt chuckled and went back into the market.

**-TREMORS-**

During the course of the next several days, Burt observed the conga line of trucks.  Much to his dismay, the workers cleared out Nestor’s old plot as well as the surrounding area.  That meant the strangers would live inside town rather than some isolated bluff.  Jodi enjoyed increased monies from the seismo-monitor rentals, refreshments, and typical tourist purchases.

First, the workers installed the requisite graboid cement barrier.  Then they installed a decorative cement fence that rose approximately ten feet from the ground.  The desert granite bricks were random sizes and came to about four feet from the ground with the exception of the posts.  Metal bars filled the rest of the space with long metal caps.  If someone were running from El Blanco, he or she could easily scale the fence without worry of impalement from metal spikes.

El Blanco ventured close to the site on several occasions but the workers used concussion grenades to drive away the graboid.  This crew had been well briefed.  They continued with their building within the safety perimeter afforded by the barrier.  Instead of a ranch-style house that Burt expected from Melvin’s assortment of homes, the workers continued working with stone and erected a three-story castle with four round spires as well as battlements on the roof.  It reminded him of Château de Vigny, though much smaller and lacking a moat.

Burt assessed the size of the structure.  At one point, he wandered in among the construction site unchallenged.  It was too much room for one or two people.  Easily, it was a six-bedroom house.  A man wearing a white hard hat tossed a green hard hat at Burt and laughed.  Burt accepted the invitation to continue investigating.  He quickly realized he was the only one in a green hard hat.  The workers wore yellow and the supervisors wore white.

No one interfered.  Burt saw no sign of the strangers but the construction crew clearly operated on specialized blueprints.  Melvin was clearly making a small fortune on this construction effort.  Who was paying for it?

“Seen enough?”

Burt turned and saw Twitchell wearing a green hardhat.  He said, “Wasting the taxpayers’ money, I see.”

Twitchell laughed, “You wish!  Someone has a trust fund.  She’s paying for all this out of her own pocket.”

Burt asked, “Why so much room?”

Twitchell said, “Every now and then we might find it necessary to barrack some emergency personnel.  This is not a hotel or bed and breakfast.”

Burt raised an eyebrow and asked, “Are you sure?”

Twitchell laughed, “Come on.  Let me buy you a beer.”

The two men departed the construction site.  Burt kept shaking his head.  It was too much too soon.  At the rate the construction crew operated, the house would be completed in less than two weeks.  The situation was unacceptable.  He could take care of his friends.  He did not need help from the government.

Returning to the market, Burt quietly fumed.  Tyler was off on a graboid tour.  Twitchell sat with his portable fan.  Jodi casually read a book.  Business would pick up once the tour returned.  Burt felt as if his world was crashing down around him.  He had done so much for his town.  In reciprocity, his fellow citizens looked to him for leadership.  While Twitchell acted as if the valley was his domain, Burt knew better.  As the tour group arrived, he decided to return home.

Over the course of the next several days, Burt focused on his new survival class.  Occasionally, he received radio reports from Tyler updating him on the situation in town.  El Blanco remained on best behavior.  One of the advantages to the survival school was that it allowed Burt to earn an income.  Every cent of his retirement was converted to silver, which was subsequently blown to smithereens in the ass blaster incursion on his home.

Burt found additional ways to supplement his income including speaking engagements and the occasional government contracts outside of Perfection Valley.  While graboids first made their reappearance in Perfection, they began appearing in other parts of the world.

Rhonda Le Beck theorized the graboids evolved to include periods of extended egg incubation in order to allow the natural food supply to regenerate.  Based on assorted dragon mythologies around the world, she speculated an incubation period of one hundred years.  As to the period of activity, she drew no definitive conclusion.

Even though food was plentiful around the world, somehow the graboids managed to lose ground.  Recently, they tended to show up in desert terrains.  Mythologies suggested they adapted to a variety of terrains.  Had they met their match with humans?  Had nature finally selected them for extinction?

As Burt concluded his survival class, he took notice of the new arrival entering Chang’s Market.  It was the strange woman, this time in a different uniform.  She wore brown shoes, green slacks, and a grey shirt sporting the National Park Service patch on her left arm.  The gold shield perfectly aligned with the front left crease of the shirt half an inch above the left pocket.  The gold colored nameplate rested half an inch above the right pocket.  She wore the tan broad brimmed hat with black band inscribed USNPS.  Burt noticed she carried a holstered sidearm, atypical of a traditional ranger.  Her dark hair tightly coiled in a bun above the collar, probably habit to comply with military hair regulations for females.

The class participants dispersed throughout the market for shopping.  Burt decided to join the newcomer.  He said, “What brings you here?”

Maureen said, “Ah, Mister Gummer!  Either I can take the Desert Jack tour or you can show me around the valley.  How about it?”

Burt laughed, “Oh really?  I thought you weren’t trying to make friends.”

“I’m not,” said Maureen.  “I suspect you know every nook and cranny of this valley.”

“Not every,” said Burt.  While he knew most of the valley, he failed to locate the remnants of the Proudfoot facilities.  He briefly considered using the woman to obtain information on Proudfoot.

Maureen said, “I have maps.  I can just go around myself.”

“Come on,” sighed Burt as he stood.

“Affirmative,” said Maureen.

The two walked outside and Burt took notice of the new vehicle, a civilian version of a Humvee in desert camouflage paint complete with fifty-caliber ring.  Why did a supposed civilian need a fifty-caliber ring?  What weapons did she stockade in that princess castle of hers?  Tyler was nonchalantly inspecting the vehicle but stepped away.

Burt called, “Come on, Tyler.  Let’s ride.”  Tyler hid his confusion as he climbed into the back bed of Burt’s rig.  Burt made no effort to extend a gentleman’s arm as Maureen climbed into the rig.  He said, “Buckle up.  This is going to be a bumpy ride.”

He was not interested in extending a courtesy; Burt wanted to prove this was his valley.  He gave the Gummer tour, which differed from the regular tour that Tyler offered.  He noted Maureen asked few questions but when she did, they were relevant.  He decided on a small break with a light MRE supper on some boulders.

Burt teased, “What’s your pleasure?”

“A number twelve if you’ve got it,” replied Maureen.  “I know, no one likes the meatloaf but someone’s got to eat it.”  As if on cue, El Blanco arrived and circled the boulders.  The three safely ate their MRE’s.

Tyler asked, “What brings you to Perfection?”

“I was intrigued,” said Maureen.  “Oh, don’t get me wrong.  I sent in my résumé for a number of different jobs.  Then the Department of the Interior extended an invitation for this position.  Something about the danger – I think we all need a little bit of that every now and then.”

Burt asked, “What about the rest of it?”

“That’s a valid consideration and a concern,” said Maureen.  “Don’t even think of giving our country a black eye.  Proudfoot went rogue.  That situation needs containment.  It is pretty country out here.  Just remember that I have access to resources the average citizen does not.”

Burt laughed, “So that’s the government line.”

“For now,” Maureen smiled.

Tyler said, “We best be moving along.”

Coordinating their efforts, the three returned to Burt’s rig and sped away.  El Blanco briefly gave chase before taking off in pursuit of an easier meal.  Burt continued to feel the frustration of a new and undesirable visitor.  Yes, visitor – he could not allow himself to accept this was truly a permanent situation.

As Burt drove towards town, Jodi contacted him on the radio.  Two hikers failed to return to town and Jodi thought it prudent to conduct a search.  Burt assessed the situation.  He had less than half a tank of gas.  While he had reserve cans in the bed of his rig, he knew he needed to fill his tank.  It could take hours searching for the hikers.

Burt pulled up to the gas pump and started filling his tank.  Then he and his companions entered the market.  Burt bellowed, “Give me a sit rep.”

Rosalita sighed, “There he goes again.”

Jodi explained the registered path the hikers intended.  Her impressions were that the hikers had experience and brought top-notch equipment.  If they changed their plans, perhaps they intended to camp in the desert for the night.  If they changed their route, Burt knew it would be near impossible to find them, especially if El Blanco made a meal of them.  He scarcely had to look at the map, knowing the popular hiking trails.

Maureen said, “I’m assigned Channel 15.”

Burt scoffed, “La de da.”

Maureen said, “You operate on Channel 2.  Tell you what – Tyler can ride with me.  I’m sure you’ll be happier going alone.  I’ll give you a moment with Tyler so you can brief him on how to spy on me.”

Burt shook his head as Maureen exited the market.  Tyler said, “You sure don’t want to play nice.”

“She’s up to something,” said Burt.

Tyler said, “Burt, stay focused.  We have two missing hikers.  We can cover more terrain in two separate vehicles.  I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Jodi teased, “Isn’t she a little old for you?”

Nancy said, “It’s a good dye job with the hair.  She must be what, forty five?”

Burt casually said, “Fifty two.  Joined the military right after college, served thirty years.  Tyler, she is the enemy.  Never forget that.”

“Right,” said Tyler.  “Let’s ride.”


End file.
